


I Meant To Tell You To Stay

by ohyoudork



Category: American Idiot - Green Day/Armstrong
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohyoudork/pseuds/ohyoudork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only took about a minute after Tunny returned to Jingletown - after he found Johnny, freshly back from the city, and Will, desperate and alone - that he realized fully what he’d left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Meant To Tell You To Stay

It only took about a minute after Tunny returned to Jingletown - after he found Johnny, freshly back from the city, and Will, desperate and alone - that he realized fully what he’d left behind.

He didn’t regret his decision to join the Army, not on the whole - though sometimes he still rolled his eyes at himself for getting caught up in the persuasive propaganda he saw on TV late that night in the dingy motel room when he couldn’t sleep. How he let himself fall under some spell of red, white, and blue after a lifetime of mocking it, he’d never know. Despite his indifferent feelings about government and the country as a whole though, he didn’t regret putting his life on the line to protect the lives of others. It was the first smart decision he’d made in years, if he was being honest.

For a long time, all his life really, he’d felt like he was coasting along, fucking around and not making anything of himself. He knew he wasn’t living up to the “potential” all his high school teachers said they saw in him. (“If you’d just stop being so angry all the time, you could be anything you wanted” one of his English teachers had said near the end of senior year. Tunny had cursed at her and kicked the door on his way out.) He, Will, and Johnny had all heard it, and it went in one ear and out the other. He didn’t feel like he had anything to offer anyone, nothing real or substantial at least, so why bother trying? Why put yourself out there? Why go to college? Why get a real job? It seemed pointless when he just didn’t matter. Not some pissed off fuckup with a tendency toward apathy and mommy issues. But he knew other people were important, doing things that were of real value, creating cures for cancer and rioting in the streets for justice. And he knew their rights and their lives were worth saving.

Even though he lost a leg in the Army, along with his sense of safety and any hope of a decent night’s sleep in the foreseeable future, he didn’t regret it.

And he’d met a girl: a beautiful, brave girl, already risking her own life in the field of battle, who took it upon herself to not only nurse him back to physical health, but some semblance of emotional health as well. She’d taken the time to win him over and earn his trust, which was definitely not an easy task even before coming to war. Then there were dark nights where he woke up drenched in sweat from far-too-real terrors, and she stood by him, cared for him, and helped to rebuild him, piece by piece.

At that time, his mind couldn’t yet wrap itself around his life before war or a life after it. He remembered his life in Jingletown, and Johnny and Will, with a kind of foggy nostalgia - little things like Johnny’s beatup guitar and Will’s couch that sagged in the middle - but with no real clarity or understanding. He searched for them in his memories, wanting to hold on to them and everything he knew they meant to him, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t remember the safety he’d felt when the three of them stayed up all night, playing video games and shooting the shit. He couldn’t remember the carefree, drunken binges or even the serious, painful moments they’d shared - things he thought would always be seared into his mind suddenly dimmed to barely recognizable shapes. He’d always been able find something, any little thing like the way Johnny would bite his nails when he got nervous or the sound of Will’s laugh, and he would be able to almost feel home deep in his bones. Even up until the moment he got caught in that firefight that had ultimately taken his leg, he was remembering his friends, particularly Johnny’s 19th birthday party when they almost got arrested for drawing sidewalk chalk figures doing inappropriate things on the side of 7-Eleven.

But laying day after day in the makeshift Army hospital, his days groggy with pain and dust, agonized screams and gunfire the only noises, he couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t right in front of him.

So he held on to her; her hand against his chest was a physical reminder, a real, tangible feeling, of the present. She was the strength he needed when he felt depleted and alone in the desert, a life raft when he had isolated himself on an island.

He knew it wasn’t forever. Their connection was temporary, built out of a mutual necessity - him needing an anchor in the present and her needing to pour her energy into someone who wouldn’t die on her. And they were OK with that because it pulled them both through the war. Just because they knew it wouldn’t last didn’t diminish how much it meant.

Part of him didn’t think she’d come back with him; part of him figured she’d forgo her leave and stay, move on to other victims, keep helping soldiers, doing what she did best. He knew it was selfish to ask, to take her away from others who needed her. But he asked anyway, not wanting to have to say goodbye yet, even though he didn’t know what they’d do, what they’d be, when they arrived stateside. For some reason, she said yes, traveling to his hometown, hands and hearts joined. He didn’t know why she came, but he was fucking thankful that she wanted to take this last journey with him.

But coming home was harder than he ever imagined. They stepped off the bus, almost delusional with jet lag, late in the afternoon. They hadn’t spoken much of the ride on the plane or from the airport, him lost in his thoughts and fears about what it would be like to see the place he’d called home for so long with these new, weary eyes - her giving him the space she knew he needed from weeks of dealing with him and coming to understand his process of grief and acceptance.

Even then, with the warm California sun on his cracked skin again, he felt a bit more like himself. The familiar pavement beneath his feet was like a breath of relief, the slightest breeze filling his nostrils with scents he hadn’t realized he could ever forget - the faint salt of the ocean and the burn of hot dogs on street carts. How could he have forgotten? And even then, he felt his dependence on his girl lessen; he knew it would happen, but he didn’t expect it so instantly. It was as if a fiber of the rope that was tying them together had unraveled, with others fraying by the second.

Tunny saw Will as soon as he was on the ground. His best friend since they were 5, curled into a hoodie and almost shivering despite the 75-degree day, shoulders pulled together and hands shoved in the pockets, staring at his feet. Will looked almost the same as the day Tunny and Johnny had left - except for his face. In his expression, Tunny saw that Will was broken; he seemed haunted, his eyes downcast and heavy. Will was always quick with a smile and laugh, his mouth stuck in a semi-permanent smirk. But that was gone. Tunny realized with a pang that their months apart since he deployed was the longest they’d ever gone without seeing each other, much less without talking, in all their years of friendship. The guilt nearly pushed him back on his ass. His best friend, his partner in juvenile crime, the safe place he’d come to rely on - he’d left without a word. He’d left not only their town, but the city and the country, without explanation, without a second thought.

Tunny saw Johnny next, standing only feet away, looking unsure and guilty himself. His other best friend, who he and Will had met only a week after each other on the playground during recess, kicking a soccer ball against a fence by himself. Their trio had formed that day, and it had lasted them for more than 15 years. More than 15 years of never being further apart than a five-minute drive, of never going longer than a few hours without seeing each other.

After leaving Will behind in Jingletown, it had been just him and Johnny, braving the city, relying on and trusting each other. Then he’d left Johnny in that motel room alone; he’d abandoned Johnny for the desert just like Johnny’s dad had all those years ago. The only difference was Tunny hadn’t died over there like Johnny’s dad. But still, Tunny had disappeared like a ghost, like his own mother had when he was little. He always swore he’d never do that to another living soul, and he’d gone and done it to both of his best friends.

Though he was barely off the bus, Johnny spotted Tunny first, and Tunny wanted to hide, to retreat, to fly back to the desert - anything to escape. But there they were, finally face to face, and Tunny saw that Johnny was barely holding in tears. Tunny thought he had never seen his friend so emotional, so vulnerable, so fragile. Johnny had always been the most expressive of the three, but hardly ever like this. Tunny could count on one hand the times he’d seen Johnny this visibly upset. He wondered if it had something to do with that rebel chick he’d tried to serenade the night before Tunny left. She and the city must have really done a number on him, Tunny thought regretfully. Nothing convinced him of that more than when Johnny came at him, all fists and fury.

The shove wasn’t hard, but Tunny wasn’t completely used to his prosthetic yet, and he almost lost his balance. Johnny pushed him again, and he couldn’t tell who Johnny was more angry with - Tunny or himself. There was loathing all over his face and in his movements, but Tunny didn’t know if Johnny hated himself for whatever had transpired in the city, or Tunny for leaving him behind. Especially since Tunny had promised to stay. He’d promised they would go on the journey together, experiencing the city and all its glory as a team - since they couldn’t be a trio, they’d have to be an even better duo. Tunny had promised, and then he broke it.

Johnny was aiming to come at him again when Will came up from behind, taking Johnny in his arms and pulling him back, Johnny kicking and yelling, cursing to be let free, cursing at Tunny for abandoning him. He was screaming obscenities through the yells of “why,” the shrieks piercing Tunny like bullets. And Tunny thought he was going to cry, right there in the middle of the bus station. He hadn’t cried since right after the amputation and, before that, he’d cried all of twice in his life that he could remember (the first on his seventh birthday a few weeks after his mom had left and the second when the three of them had gotten into that car accident when they were 16 and Will was stuck in the hospital for two days with three broken ribs, a broken arm, and a concussion while Johnny and Tunny had only gotten a few bruises). He didn’t blame Johnny for being angry; he deserved it and he welcomed the anger, welcomed the rage and violence. He deserved it all.

When Johnny broke free of Will, he rushed toward Tunny once more, arm outstretched, ready to punch. Though he was willing to take the hit, instead Tunny reached out, laying his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. He hoped that the touch would be understood, that his immense apology could be felt through the contact. And when Johnny’s face instantly fell, his features crushing into a combination of understanding and forgiveness, Tunny felt a surge of relief and pulled his friend to him, gripping Johnny’s leather jacket like he had gripped the side of his bed in pain right before the amputation.

He never wanted to let go - for a moment, he couldn’t even remember why he had let go in the first place. Who would want to let go of such comfort, such familiarity? Johnny was shaking as he disengaged from the hug, resting his forehead against Tunny’s, communicating months of apologies in one look. They were both sorry. They had both lived and learned and returned to each other at the end. Somewhere deep inside, Tunny had known it would happen. Like there was this unavoidable connection between them. Something permanent, something stronger than the city, stronger than a war.

Johnny turned around and practically ran into Will, the two of them coming together naturally, without any anger. After all, they had always expected Johnny to leave; he and Tunny had many discussions late at night, Will’s feet propped up on Tunny’s lap, passing a joint between them, about how Johnny would get out. Even if he didn’t really make anything of himself, even if it was only the next town over, he’d get out; he’d go on to do something somewhere. He was made for a different place, and Tunny and Will had always accepted that and expected it. And both of them knew Johnny would always be with them in some manner of speaking - it was just how things were, how they were meant to be. So even though being left behind had stung, Will wasn’t angry with Johnny. He was sorry he’d missed out on the adventure probably, but not angry.

Watching his two best friends embrace was like a punch to the gut, but in a good way. It felt right. It made him feel whole.

Clenching his fists instinctually at his sides, Tunny felt his nerves on overdrive as Johnny stepped back, leaving a clear space between Tunny and Will. They just stared at each other for a few seconds, the air almost electric between them. Tunny didn’t know if Will would be angry like Johnny, which he had every right to be, or react differently.

He didn’t know what to expect because he’d honestly never envisioned a life where he would have left Will. It was never his intention. He always figured if they got out, they’d get out together. Or they’d stay, which would be OK as long as they had each other.

It was Will he’d turned to when his mom had skipped town; it was Will he’d turned to when his dad would get drunk and slap him around; it was Will’s house that was always a safe haven. It wasn’t perfect (Will’s parents bickered like it was going out of style and their house was kind of always in a state of perpetual chaos), but there was love. Tunny had spent so much of his adolescence there that Will’s parents called him “son” without any trace of condescension, and Will’s sisters often bragged - and sometime lamented - that they had two older brothers instead of just one.

And Will had turned to Tunny when he was getting bullied in fifth grade; Will had turned to him when he was scared of flunking and not making it to high school and needed tutoring; Will had turned to him when he got in too deep with a loan shark and needed protection until they could rustle up some quick cash. They always had each other’s backs.

The three of them were best friends, but Johnny had always been kind of the leader - the first one to try something new, the first one to head out the door, the first one up for an adventure. He was the one who got the bus tickets out of Jingletown, after all. Will and Tunny would look at each other and shake their heads and follow behind, a secret grin between them. Those were their roles: the leader and his followers, creating a different dynamic of friendship between Johnny and them. Not better or worse, just different. They were best as a trio, but Will and Tunny were the constant pair, while Johnny was able to function on his own. And those roles worked, until things got so fucked up, until Tunny made the decision to leave in the first place. To break apart the family they’d relied on when everything and everyone else had failed them.

Leaving Jingletown with Johnny, leaving Will behind, was a real and heart-clenching regret. He should have stayed, and he knew it with such certainty that he couldn’t understand why he’d followed Johnny that afternoon instead of listening to his gut. Leaving Will with a pregnant Heather, at a crossroads into real adulthood, was a vivid memory that was flashing through Tunny’s mind at lightning speed. But even worse was leaving the country, to battle dangers he never could have anticipated, without seeking Will’s advice. Without at least letting Will know. He didn’t know if he would forgive Will if the situations were reversed.

But Will stepped forward slowly and wrapped his arms around Tunny so tightly that he felt like he was suffocating, and he never wanted it to end. The desperate months of gunfire and agony couldn’t compare with how much he missed Will’s presence, his tired acceptance and his gentle reassurance. The smell of cigarettes that was ingrained in every stitch of clothing Will owned was comforting, as was the plushness of the worn hoodie, warmed by the sun. He felt bathed in a sense of security, almost dizzy with the alleviation of the homesickness that had been weighing on him.

Will’s hand was resting on the back of Tunny’s head, the other curled into the collar of his uniform. He buried his face into the crock of Will’s neck, feeling like a child who didn’t want to let go of their parents on the first day of school. The way Will’s head tilted just slightly, his ear resting against Tunny’s, told him everything was OK. Tunny could feel Will’s muscles relaxing, the anxiety melting away, and Tunny’s did the same. It was natural; it was how it was meant to be.

When they pulled apart slightly, Johnny spliced his way between them, throwing an arm over each, their bodies connected at the hips. It was almost like going back in time, to how they used to be; they were different, all three of them, but as a unit once more, Tunny could feel the pieces of himself that he’d suppressed, that he’d forgotten, rise to the surface. They’d all experienced the world and the obstacles it could throw and the traps it could set. But they’d returned to each other.

Glancing to his left, Tunny spotted his girl still standing near the idling bus, their bags at her feet - he was embarrassed to acknowledge that he had completely forgotten she was there. With Johnny’s fingers digging into his shoulder and Will’s hand wrapped around his wrist behind Johnny’s back, Tunny had forgotten anything else had existed. The shame must have shown on his face because his beautiful, understanding girl slowly shook her head at him and smiled, holding her hand to her heart - a beacon of strength and compassion, she understood what Tunny needed, that he had needed them, more than anything she could ever provide. She had expected all of this, it suddenly dawned on him. He smiled at her, blinking away tears for the second time in the span of five minutes, and then turned back, laying his head to rest against Johnny’s temple.

Tunny realized he didn’t even feel the awkwardness of the prosthetic, not with his best friends a part of him again. He felt like he was standing on his own two feet, on solid ground, for the first time in nearly a year. He felt safe with Will and Johnny, an overwhelming calm that was inexplicable but very real. Nothing else mattered now that he had them by his side; nothing else mattered now that he was home again.

**Author's Note:**

> \- First time dipping my toes into writing for Idiot. It's something I've wanted to do for years, but I've always been scared. Finishing my first exchange for another fandom somehow made me more brave in general when it comes to writing.  
> \- "We're Coming Home Again" makes me cry more than it should.  
> \- This is kind of dedicated to my wonderful Kayla, who has cried all the real Idiot tears with me.  
> \- Also, you can find me [here on Tumblr](http://feuillyed.tumblr.com/), and I would love to talk to any and all of you!


End file.
